"Amaveram prae caeteris
Te, sed amici veteris
Es jam oblita! Superis
Vel inferis
Ream te criminamur."
I will close this section with the lament written for a medieval Gretchen whose fault has been discovered, and whose lover has been forced to leave the country. Its bare realism contrasts with the lyrical exuberance of the preceding specimens.
GRETCHEN.
No. 41.
Up to this time, well-away!
I concealed the truth from day,
Went on loving skilfully.
Now my fault at length is clear:
That the hour of need is near,
From my shape all eyes can see.
So my mother gives me blows,
So my father curses throws;
They both treat me savagely.
In the house alone I sit,
Dare not walk about the street,
Nor at play in public be.
If I walk about the street,
Every one I chance to meet
Scans me like a prodigy:
When they see the load I bear,
All the neighbours nudge and stare,
Gaping while I hasten by;
With their elbows nudge, and so
With their finger point, as though
I were some monstrosity;
Me with nods and winks they spurn,
Judge me fit in flames to burn
For one lapse from honesty.
Why this tedious tale prolong?
Short, I am become a song,
In all mouths a mockery.
By this am I done to death,
Sorrow kills me, chokes my breath,
Ever weep I bitterly.
One thing makes me still more grieve,
That my friend his home must leave
For the same cause instantly;
Therefore is my sadness so
Multiplied, weighed down with woe,
For he too will part from me.